A biting wind whipped across the Wall, carrying snow and ice in every direction. The world beyond seemed entirely encased in frost and shadow. Jon Snow drew in a deep, shuddering breath, feeling the icy sting of water dripping down his neck. He gripped the cold wooden ladder lowered by the Thenns and climbed carefully, each step deliberate, as he ascended toward the top of the Wall.
Once, he had been merely Eddard Stark's bastard son, following his uncle Benjen to the Wall. Later, he had sworn the vows of the Night's Watch, earning a reputation for intelligence and courage, eventually becoming Lord Commander Mormont's personal steward. Time had transformed him from a boy into a man burdened by loyalty, duty, and secrets.
Not long ago, he had been sent to Shadow Tower under the tutelage of First Ranger Qhorin Halfhand, patrolling with seasoned rangers to investigate the movements of the Free Folk in the Frostfangs. And now, following Qhorin's last instructions, Jon found himself acting as a chameleon, a spy, a seeming oathbreaker—moving among the Free Folk to gather intelligence.
His fingers were numb as he gripped the ladder. Beside him, a young Thenn climbed effortlessly, using both hands and feet with inhuman agility. Then, with a scream that echoed against the stone and ice, another Thenn slipped, falling two hundred meters to shatter on the rocks below. A crimson stain darkened the snow. Jon forced his eyes away from the corpse, suppressing the flicker of fear rising in his chest. Survival required focus.
His gaze fell to the girl beside him, Ygritte. Her hair was fiery and wild, framing a face as untamed as the lands Beyond the Wall. She had become the center of his inner conflict, the reason his vows felt heavier, the reason his heart betrayed his sworn oath.
Initially, Jon had convinced himself that deceit was necessary—to gain Mance Rayder's trust, to survive, to learn. But the more time he spent with Ygritte, the more he had succumbed. In sleeping bags, rivers, caves, tents, even snowdrifts, he had fallen into her fire-like embrace and fallen deeply in love.
Ygritte, however, seemed impervious to sentiment. She focused on survival, treating the death of the Thenn as if it were a common occurrence, the natural consequence of a world governed by steel and strength. The Free Folk's rewards were simple: a steel sword and glory. Mance Rayder had promised such weapons to those who attacked Black Castle, a fortress thought vulnerable due to its lack of walls. Those who succeeded would open the gates, allowing thousands of Free Folk to pass into the Gift. Jon Snow was one of those chosen.
As midnight approached, the stars glittered overhead like cold, indifferent eyes. At last, Jon and Ygritte reached the summit. The Wall's top was astonishingly wide, broad enough for twelve fully armed knights to ride side by side. And yet, the expanse was packed with elite soldiers in polished plate armor. Crossbows were trained on the climbing Free Folk, silent as the grave, waiting for the intruders to step into the trap.
The Thenns' leader, who had climbed earlier, brandished a massive greatsword. His gray eyes swept Jon Snow and a sneer appeared. "Chameleon," he muttered, voice carrying barely above the wind. "I should never have trusted you."
Styr, the young Thenn, dared not speak. Every second of hesitation could cost his men their lives; a single crossbow bolt would turn them into lifeless carcasses. The only choice was to wait—wait for the opportunity to act, or die.
For Jon, the tension was almost exhilarating. The trap had worked. The undefended Black Castle was no longer at risk. Someone had anticipated the Free Folk's movements, and his mission's end was finally in sight.
Ygritte leaned close, her voice low and fiery. "When the moment comes, we run together. You are mine, and I am yours. Even if we die tonight, we die as one."
Jon's hands rose instinctively to shield her. "You won't die," he whispered, scanning the ranks of steel for familiar sigils. Yet the golden sun on one surcoat eluded his memory. Who belonged to that banner?
The Thenns continued their cautious climb, silent and tense, understanding their peril without a word spoken.
"Check for any stragglers," Eddard's voice rang over the Wall. Calm, authoritative. He had orchestrated this ambush meticulously, using Jon's presence as bait and the Free Folk's movements to plan the trap. Hours of patience had set the stage for a decisive moment.
"None remain, my lord. All are here," reported Kalas, scouting the edge of the Wall.
Eddard nodded and pointed to Jon. "You, come here."
Jon froze briefly. The voice was familiar, though he could not immediately place it. Yet instinct and obedience carried him forward. He approached, Ygritte at his side, unaware of what awaited them.
"Bring the woman with you, Jon Snow," Eddard added, his tone light but commanding. "I heard everything. You cannot whisper quietly enough to hide her from me."
Jon's heart skipped. The voice belonged to Eddard Karstark, a childhood friend and sparring companion. Memories of Winterfell, of past lessons and playful duels, flitted through his mind. "Eddard!" he exclaimed. Relief and joy mingled with tension. "To see you here…"
Eddard's eyes sparkled, a playful smirk on his lips. "So, the Night's Watch is not enough for you, Jon? Have you become Mance Rayder's son-in-law?"
"No," Jon said quickly, anxiety threading his words. "I act on Qhorin Halfhand's orders. I monitor the Free Folk for the Watch." His gaze, however, kept flickering to Ygritte, aware of the tension between duty and desire.
Eddard's expression softened, though his smile remained teasing. "Very well. That story will do. But your little lover stays with me for now."
Ygritte's face hardened in defiance. She drew a bone dagger, ready to resist. But Eddard was faster. His iron gauntlet struck her shoulder, sending her off balance, and she tumbled into Jon's arms.
"Next time, Jon, be careful with her. Consequences are death," Eddard warned. "The vows of the Night's Watch remain. You may love, but not yet. Discipline comes first."
Several retainers moved in, restraining the couple and removing their weapons.
Eddard then turned to Styr, leader of the Thenns. "Step forward. You have something to say?"
"Speak quickly, or fight if you must. We fear no man," Styr replied, voice firm despite the tension. His men respected him, though the encircling crossbows reminded them that bravery had limits.
Eddard drew his sword—Heartbreaker, forged of Valyrian steel, long and deadly. "You and I fight," he announced. "Win, and you may lead your men down safely. Fail, and you obey my command. This is your chance."
Jon's eyes widened. Styr's greatsword, formidable north of the Wall, could not withstand Valyrian steel. Victory was already decided.
Styr's pride flared. He loved combat, feared nothing, and only Mance Rayder had bested him. But even with his zeal, he could not overcome the superior skill and weapon before him.
With a series of swift strikes, Eddard disarmed Styr, breaking his sword in two. A final kick sent him sprawling. "You lost. Deliver my message to Mance Rayder: I await him at Black Castle. If he seeks to hide behind the Wall from the Others, he must come and find me."
Grim but resigned, Styr retrieved the ornate great-axe Eddard tossed him, a piece of gilded steel with a genuine ruby, and led his men safely down the ladders.
Eddard turned to Jon Snow with a wry smile. "By the way… interested in becoming Lord Commander of the Night's Watch?"
Jon stared at the Wall, at the vast icy expanse, at the Free Folk disappearing into the night, and felt the weight of destiny settle upon him.
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